It was a shocking decision. Certainly the Welsh had been somewhat disappointing during the first quarter of their crunch fifth-sixth place play-off netball match against South Africa, and it could only be a struggle to come back from being 21 goals to four behind. Admittedly, goal shooter Mair Jones - 6ft 4in and 17 and a half stone - had not been shooting the lights out, scoring two and missing seven to give a conversion rate of 22 per cent. But everyone can have a lousy 15 minutes, and Big Mair had scored 107 goals in the tournament in earlier matches. Despite this, coach Henry substituted the 25-goal-a-game girl.

Mair, pink-faced and pony-tailed, took it magnificently. She sat down and opened a bottle of water and didn't say a word. Even as replacement Jamilla Harris got herself in the zone by singing and dancing her way through the whole of Hey, Big Spender , Mair didn't complain. Even as the crowd, under instructions, swayed sea-sickeningly from side to side, Mair kept her counsel. And when Harris scored within seconds of the restart, Mair was the first to applaud. Netball, as we all know, can be a cruel game. It's how you handle the cruelty that counts.

Inevitably, the substitution didn't work. Wales ended up on the wrong end of a 71-27 scoreline for a sixth out of 10 finish. Despite this, they still had the sheer cajones to sing their way through Sir Cliff's Summer Holiday at the end. Half school disco, half sports event, the netball had provided good, clean fun.

In this respect it was symptomatic of these Games, which have harked back to more innocent times. Those that think it's all about medals are missing the point. The screaming headlines about the English gold-medal hauls come across as slightly pathetic. Guys, guys, guys, this is the Commonwealth Games - England can't help but win medals.

For once, we have been treated to a sporting event where the taking part is equal to the winning - an event that Manchester is thrilled to be hosting, and the majority of competitors are happy simply to be attending. It has the feel of a British summer holiday, pleasant and friendly, if not a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

And, on Friday evening, after four days and nights of continuous rain, the sun came out. The weather had been so dismal that there were fears that the bowls finals would be abandoned without a ball being bowled. But on Friday that strange yellow roundish thing made an appearance.

I ducked inside to catch some table tennis. And there on a far table another brave Welsh woman, Bethan Daunton, was making her bid for a quarter-final place. A Paul Scholes lookalike, she had come back from three sets to one down to level the match. Every time she won a point she punched the air and shouted, 'Cho'. Her serve required plenty of tongue work followed by a surprised lifting of the eyeballs as she threw the ball up and then a grimace as she hit it. She levelled the final set at 7-7, made a mistake, shouted, 'Oh, you div' - and went on to lose the match. The DJ cranked out Zorba the Greek music.

On the main table, Matthew Syed chopped his forehand and spun his way to victory. Watching Syed is one of the more mesmeric sights in sport. He can't possibly return that smash? Oh, but he can. Sadly, he lost to a Singaporean player in yesterday's quarter-finals.

Nearly as captivating as Syed was the weightlifting super-heavyweight division. Representing Wales - you couldn't move for the Welsh in Manchester last week - was Terry Perdue. Weighing in at 25 stone, he was the only competitor at the Games whom his peers would have difficulty clean-and-jerking. Terry lifted 177.5kg. He moved on up to 182.5. 'It's the last one for Wales in this Games. Come on, Terry. Let's make it good,' said his coach. No lift. Terry finished fifth. One better than the netball team.

For a while, it looked as if England's Giles Greenwood, who had led after the snatch, might hang on to victory. He looked at the bar, said, 'Come on,' walked forward, gripped the bar, said, 'Schhh, schhh, schhh, schhh, schhh, schhh,' with an 'Uunnngh' put the bar on his shoulders and after four more 'schhhs' raised it in the air. Good lift. But Nigel Avery from New Zealand was lurking in the wings. Avery introduced himself to the competition with a Games record of 207.5kg. Greenwood matched him. So Nigel put another 10kg on the bar and won his gold. Gripping stuff.